


The Epoch

by InkuisitivSkins



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Parenthood, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 21:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12803274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkuisitivSkins/pseuds/InkuisitivSkins
Summary: LivMiles Week 2017 Day 3 - AcceptanceThe turning point of when you accept and love yourself for who you are is often the beginning of a new era in one's life; especially if the path you have taken thus far has been fraught with hardship and difficulty.





	The Epoch

**Author's Note:**

> Yikes, this was a little late... by almost thirty minutes LMAO. Happy day four guys, haha
> 
> For those of you participating in the week, I'm really sorry I haven't gotten to the rest of your fics so far! This week has been stupid busy, but I'm very excited to finally see them!
> 
> This will be the last of my fics for the week, but I do like this one the most. I initially was just gonna do something simple, like when Miles accepted Olivier's order to stay at Briggs, but then I thought of a continuation to ["They're Going to Love You"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12477564) since I had a really good time with that one. And I'm really happy I made the change, I like this one a lot more <3
> 
> I hope you guys continue to enjoy the rest of the week! Should I post the art here on ao3, too?? It'll be on tumblr for sure.

“Are you sure?” Miles asked as he was handed the new, sleeping baby. Olivier replied a close-mouthed affirmative as she handed her daughter to the child’s father.

“What if she wants you instead?”

“Miles, I won’t be long, plus she’s asleep. _Plus_ , you’re her father, not some weird stranger. She’s always perfectly comfortable with you when she’s awake.”

“But,” the Ishvalan man said, glancing down at Adeline, who was completely content as she continued to sleep, now in his arms. “This is the first time you’ve ever been away from her.”

Olivier, tired as can be, sighed gently, “Miles. I’m going to take a bath. It’s just down the hall. I’m not going to get lost in my own childhood home, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

It was her husband’s turn to sigh, “I’m protective of you, but not that much, Olivier. Give me some credit.”

“I’ll give you credit when you can be alone with your own daughter without worrying that all hell will break loose,” Olivier smirked, the expression _almost_ causing the bags under her eyes to momentarily disappear.

Miles pondered the situation for a moment before turning his attention down to the baby, nodding and accepting his wife’s request.

“Good, thank you,” Olivier said, making her way to the suitcase she had brought from Briggs which contained her change of clothes. Adeline was only a few days old, but she had refused to let the baby out of her sight since her birth-- she was moving rather well thanks to the rest she had been able to finally get, and Miles was thankful that the doctor at the northern fort had convinced her (after an innumerable number of arguments) to take a nice, long, maternity leave. He was equally grateful that General Mustang had allowed _him_ paternal leave as well.

“Take your time, okay?” He piped up, standing and making his way to the bed. “I want you to be able to relax.”

Olivier smiled to herself, though Miles did not notice as he ever-so-carefully sat and laid back onto the bed, reclining against propped pillows, “Thanks.”

He watched her stand with her clothes and move to the bedroom door in a content, dreamy silence. Every time he saw her now, he was overcome with love, even more so than before.

She flashed him a smile before exiting, “Don’t get into any trouble.”

Giving her an awkward smile, Miles watched the door close behind her. As soon as the door shut, he turned his gaze back down to Adeline.

She remained asleep, her face calm until it would momentarily scrunch up, the area where her eyebrows would soon come in knitting together. Immediately, Miles felt his nerves creep in, afraid she was about to cry-- yet he quickly realized she was simply dreaming when her expression softened again.

It was strange, he thought to himself as he cradled her. He had helped his mother raise his little sister when he was a young boy, and even in adulthood, children seemed to flock to him. He loved kids and had always hoped one day that he would become a father, and while his dream had come true and he was overcome with happiness, he had not realized how nervous he would become.

Surprisingly, Olivier was _already_ much more savvy than him. While she had grown up helping her own mother raise _four_ siblings, she did not seem to like children nearly as much as he did-- until now, obviously, since her hidden motherhood was unabashedly making itself known now that she was an actual mother. She had always watched over the Briggs soldiers as if there had been a hint of maternal instincts deep within her, always helping guide her actions in defending her men, but witnessing her true colors in _this_ newly-found way, Miles could only describe as an utter treat to behold. He hadn’t thought it was possible to fall in love with her further, but every day, she continued to surprise and endear him.

Still, he did not expect to get so paranoid. Both new parents were-- Olivier, he knew, was always used to a rough and tough life, so being around something so fragile and delicate was a scenario she had not witnessed for nearly twenty years. Especially when it came to him, he had been sure about his highly-skilled fatherhood prowess shining through the moment he became a parent, but the obsession he had with keeping her safe from everything was something he did not expect.

Every moment she whined, he would flinch and fret about what was wrong. Every fussy moment she had when nursing, even every burp-- which was totally normal-- caused an alarm to go off in his head.

After thinking about it, he had come to the conclusion that perhaps his deeply-rooted fears came from the thought of losing his commander and the woman he loved. Olivier had always been so reckless; he was sure that if his hair had not already been silver, her antics would’ve caused him a whole head of gray. He grew to learn the fear of loss, though she had always assured him that this was the path they chose, and if they died fighting, it would only be a natural result in the duty of defending their country.

Another thing that frightened him-- though, this fear had drone on his entire life-- was bringing a child into a world that was against them. His parents nor his siblings had inherited the Ishvalan blood his grandfather had passed to him, but what if _he_ had a child? Would they also inherit the dark skin, white hair, and telling red eyes?

The last thing he wanted was for his son or daughter to endure the same life he had lived. It had taken him until his adulthood to come to love himself due to the discrimination he always had to press on through, and he would not wish a similar thing on anyone, especially not his dear kin.

However, in the same vein, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of fate’s humor-- he, the one always ostracized and pushed away, had created a life with one of the most powerful military generals from one of the most luxurious and wealthy families in all of Amestris. He had been thankful for Olivier from day one.

Now, as he looked down at his daughter, her eyes opened slightly. He met her gaze, the deep red color of her irises beautiful and strong behind a tired, half-lidded facade.

He was also grateful that the events of Amestris had transpired the way they did. Without the Promised Day, the old regime would have never been overthrown; thus, Ishvalan Restoration never would have gone underway. While there was still much work to be done, and not everyone’s mind had been changed for the better, he was already seeing the positive repercussions of the new campaign. People no longer looked at him in curiosity upon meeting him, then fear upon seeing his eyes-- now, he was respected and greeted when walking down the street, even by normal civilians who had no idea who he was. He was finally free to roam with eyes not concealed behind the dark shades of the snow-blindness goggles his commander had gifted to him all those years ago.

He knew that, despite all he had believed years ago, his child would have the opportunity to grow up in a world that _wanted_ her, despite the red. She would be able to grow up with other kida, and make friends, and live a life unburdened by such a strong, seething, systematic hatred. While _some_ would always remain in society, he was aware that so many changes were already in the works, and she would be much safer than he ever was.

She yawned, arching her back as she stretched her short arms, Miles smiling as he watched. He had gone on and on about how beautiful the baby was, how perfect. It was only when Olivier amusedly told him that she looked more like her father than her mother that he understood.

He had always believed something had been wrong with him, or he was dealt the worst hand possible due to the genes he inherited. Yet, looking at the life that had been gifted to his daughter, he now understood the blessing that was his own.

She had his dark skin, his crimson eyes. The Amestrian general, the baby's mother, had asked him why he thought less of himself, when he thought so highly of his new kin-- for it had been he who she had inherited the beauty from.

He had cried, which only amused Olivier. She tried to make him stop by telling him their baby looked like her, too, yet in her early youth, all that was noticeable from her Armstrong blood was her curly, blonde hair, and long eyelashes of the same color. She had told him Adeline would probably have her lips as well, but Miles was no longer listening. It was like a light bulb had gone off.

He had learned to accept himself once he found his place in Briggs; it had become his home. He was wanted, and helpful, and vital to the survival of the fort-- but it was now, in these sleepy days spent resting in the Armstrong manor and comfortably adjusting to parenthood, that he recognized the _beauty_ in himself. Olivier had always told him his bloodline was no burden, and it aided her efforts as a military commander-- he was special, and unique, and needed.

He _had_ believed her, but now, it all _finally_ sank in.  

Olivier opened the door quietly, a long towel wrapped tightly around her chest, with another wrapped up around her hair, “I forgot my hair dryer, Mother gifted it to me since it’s the latest handheld model but I wanted to try..”

She paused, looking over at him curiously, “Are you crying again?”

The Ishvalan had not noticed until a tear finally slipped down his cheek, Adeline watching it come to rest on his chin.

“Sorry, I just love her a lot.”

Understanding, Olivier smiled gently, “I know.”

“And I love you.”

“Give yourself some credit, too,” the blonde mused as she went to her old childhood vanity, retrieving the newly-invented device. “She’s half of you, after all. Speaking of which, we should see if we can get your family to come visit before our leaves are spent.”

Miles nodded gently, observing as Adeline’s attention found Olivier, and at once, she was reaching for her mother.

“Olivier,” he began.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

His voice had been soft, and Miles didn’t know how, but she seemed to understand exactly what he meant.

She smiled to herself in mirth, the expression gentle and knowing, “And thank _you_.”


End file.
